Do accessories reside within volcanic souls?
Caged by ribs studded by copper and freedom loss

Never breaking free of the illusion of control
Absoluteness dissolved like rivers and mountain coal

Where does one find purity and thought
But under the coveted gravestones
Knee deep in gutters of saddens and tears
Unarmed just like any other tree
Standing still in seasons of betrayal
Finding no man loyalty and an aching despair

After we fade.. the buffoon dances and jokes
Mockery of us and our deviated choice

That we chose nobility against our despicable grain
Yet half in the gutter half in the air

We breath and sulk about our missteps and lose
Rubies care not nor the bejeweled crown
That our statue will always hold its ground.